by K Alexander
"Do let's have faith in your mead-soaked mind." Leaning back to avoid the back of her hand he rubbed his bristly chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Let's see. Priest. Painter. Pig-farmer. Pot-maker. Pastry baker. Peach seller. Player. Parmesan. Platypus. Perti…"
"What in the name of trotters are you doing, Eric?"
Pouting at her raised eyebrows he folded his arms. "It's called being helpful, Crispin. It's a new thing. You wouldn't know about it."
"It should be called being an obstruction of justice. Of all the silliness. Platypus? The word doesn't even exist."
"It does!" Eric was just shifting in his seat to get a good position for a long argument when Crispin abruptly leaned forward, her sudden nearness to him a little startling for his liking.
"What were the other ones you said? The reasonable ones, I mean."
"Right. Peach seller?"
"No! How's that reasonable? It was… it was a player, Eric."
"And that's more reasonable to your mind? Well, that speaks for itself."
Crispin ignored his banter, her gaze thoughtful. When he saw the expression on her face he sat forward, immediately serious. "Are you completely sure about that, Crispin? It was a very vague night for both of us."
"I'm sure, Eric. And I know where they were, at that. The square near Aldrich's Tavern to the east. I led Helena there myself on the day that she was following me." Standing quickly Crispin almost knocked over the unfortunate serving girl. "That will be the place where we should start."
Eric dropped another coin on the table before he joined her. "Good woman." Hooking his arm through hers he waltzed her out, stopping just before the exit to take a deep breath and tilt his handsome face up to the sky. "Ah, I can already feel the warm water on my skin." His bliss was short-lived, as he suddenly found himself propelled rapidly from the Inn by a flushed knight. "Crispin? What was that about?"
Glancing over her shoulder quickly she never slowed her pace. "You may have been feeling the water on your skin, Eric, but in that exact spot I was feeling rather something else on my behind." When he took a quick look over his shoulder and spied the redhead grinning to herself it was only Crispin's dark scowl that prevented him from bursting into laughter.
CHAPTER TEN
WHEN HELENA HAD left early that morning with Philip he had been as attentive as ever, telling her stories of the places he'd seen while they loaded her baggage into one of the colourfully painted wagons. As the day went on, however, he became more pensive and quiet until all efforts to draw him from his shell only produced a deeper scowl on his handsome brow. Finally she resorted to conversation with the beautiful young blonde woman sitting next to her who frequently released alarmingly loud nonsensical sounds.
"Hello. I'm Helena."
Grasping her extended hand enthusiastically the young woman shook it. "I'm Harmony. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
"Me too. Harmony - that's definitely an unusual name."
"Ah." Harmony blushed charmingly. "Actually I used to be a Patricia, but Master Gaites - he's our director - feels that we must live up to the mystic something or other in the something mind's something of the audience … actually I think I have that wrong. PAAAAAAH."
Jerking at the flatly nasal honk Helena cleared her throat nervously. "Erm, yes. Of course. Have you been with the troupe for long?" She stayed as poised as she could, determined not to be startled by the next incomprehensible outburst.
"Well, yes, I suppose. I used to be a milkmaid and then my father decided to match me with Clem Urhins, the Innkeeper's son. So I ran away and joined this troupe."
"Didn't you like Clem?"
"Oh, no, Clem was perfectly nice. I was allergic to milk." The blonde smiled sweetly. "It is lovely that you have decided to join us. Now you could be the princess, or the noblewoman, or the courtier."
With a quick shake of her head Helena hurried to reassure her. "Oh, no, I wouldn't dream of it, Pa… Harmony. I'm here as a novice, in every sense of the word. I want to learn from you."
The young woman snorted quite gracelessly, reminding Helena for a brief moment of the knight. "You would be doing me a favour. I'm all curtseyed out. If I saw a curtsey coming I would kick it in the nuts, but for my bad knee. From too much curtseying, ironically. BLUHBLUHBLUHBLUH!"
The gobbling sound paired with the sight of Harmony's full lips vibrating outrageously startled Helena again. With a sharp "Yah!" she jerked her head back, only to thump it rather rigorously against the side of the wagon. The comical sight of Harmony pausing mid-BLUH with her lips in a wobbly pout almost made the sting bearable. Almost. Rubbing the back of her head with one hand Helena glared at the blonde with one eye closed.
"What exactly are you doing?"
One dainty hand lifted to cover the pouting lips. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I startled you. I didn't realise. They are tenderising exercises. For the face. To keep it mobile and expressive. For the communicative something in the art of the … something device, you see."
"Oh." It was clearly grouchy. Deciding to leave the irritable princess well alone Harmony pouted her lips and took a breath to continue, swiftly and perceptively changing to a very silent exercise when she noticed Helena's nostrils twitching. Trying to ignore the breathy "Bwahhhhhhhh" that floated from her left Helena rubbed irritably at her throbbing head, sporadically cursing Crispin and Philip in her mind. The brooding player had substituted his seat in the wagon for a horse earlier, claiming a need to stretch his legs. With the cramped conditions inside their wagon Helena could almost believe him. With her as the novice and Harmony as a 'mere' woman, they had been assigned the very last cart, crammed in between heavy trunks and various props. Shifting slightly to allay the pressure of a large rubber chicken under one buttock Helena caught sight of Philip some way off, suspended gloomily on a barely conscious horse.
"He's lovely, isn't he?" Harmony had paused her forceful exhalations and was admiring the handsome young man with a suspicious flush on her cheeks.
"Not exactly as friendly as I'd thought him to be, I'll admit."
"Oh, no, you mustn't think that. He has an artistic soul."
"Which means that he's bloody temperamental." Reaching under her body Helena pulled out the gods be damned chicken and threw it into a far corner where it hit the wall with a muffled squawk and collapsed in a little heap. "How long has Philip been with this troupe, Harmony?"
The blonde twirled a lock of hair around one finger. "Oh, about a month. Not long at all. He is quite the dandy - excellent swordsmanship."
"Where was he before this?"
"I have no idea, really. He mentioned a performance that had gone wrong, something we could all relate to here. Other than that ... who knows?"
"Harmony, if you start with that horrendous honking again I am going to damage you with that chicken."
The pouting blonde began to whistle innocently.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY positive that you haven't seen them around, Daedalus?"
"Oh, yes, positive. Definitely."
"Eric, I'm going to slice off his ears. I don't like them."
"Now sheathe your sword, will you? Look how pale he's gone. That's because you're frightening him."
"Eventually it will be from loss of blood. Hehehe."
"That blade's going to slip and then nobody will be laughing. Put it away."
"But see how he blinks so much faster when I do this. Rather entertaining, you have to admit."
"Ack!"
"Now look what you've done!"
"Well, I would apologise and say I'm sorry, except that it would be a lie and I'm a generally truthful sort of person. Anyhow, I expect that will heal in a few days. Barely a scratch."
"Why are you doing this to me?!"
"Hey, don't look at me! I'm not doing a thing. Direct your gaze to the crazy dark knight over there, because the only thing to see in this direction is me accepting no responsibility at all."
"Two reasons, Daedalus. Firstly, I take
offence to the fact that your name is not Aldrich. It is just against the laws of nature, you understand."
"Aldrich was the previous owner! I would have lost customers if I'd changed the name! That's not a fair thing to hold against me!"
"He's actually got an excellent point there, Crispin."
"No, Eric, I've got an excellent point - on the end of my sword. Damn, look, now it has a spot of blood on it. Besides, when have I ever cared about fair?"
"Well, there is the matter of a fair-haired young woman at this moment on her way to…"
"Excuse me…"
"… god knows where, and I think a fair amount of …"
"Excuse me…"
"… caring for is evident in that specific case."
"Eric, you're full of …"
"Excuse me…"
"… badger poop. WHAT?"
"I was just wondering about the second thing."
"What are you talking about?"
"The second thing. You said two reasons. Maybe if you tell me we can settle this quickly and with no - further - damage to anybody present…"
"Oh, that. Please don't whine, I hate that. The second thing is that you are trying to convince me that you have never seen a certain blonde-haired princess with a male friend who is also a player. I want that princess - shut up, Eric, I mean that I want her here, shut up - and if you can't be persuaded to change your name for the sake of all that's good and reasonable, you must at the very least oblige me with this, do you understand?"
"But I see a lot of people! You can't possibly expect of me to make use of such a sweeping description!"
"Oh, but I do. I'm completely, utterly, dementedly unreasonable. I thought you might have realised that after the small accident with your chin. Would you like me to draw you a map on your chest?"
Aggrieved sighs all around.
"Crispin, don't think that I don't recognise that glint in your eye. Don't even consider doing that here!"
"What is she …"?
"Look, I beg of you - just tell her what she wants to know. I find standing between a perfect stranger and an extremely messy death wearying."
"I may remember something."
"You may need to."
"Ack!"
"Crispin! Gods be damned! Stop that!"
"It was an accident. And it's just a scratch. Don't be so pernickety."
"Who is going to pay the healer's bill?"
"Not me. But I'm more than willing to pay the undertaker."
"Look, look, step back a little. And put that down. Please. I'm not saying I know a thing, all right? But if you're looking for real information, find Claude DeChamps. Easy to spot, has pockmarks all over his face and an eye patch. Real Helen of Troy. Now will you leave me alone?"
"It is a good thing that you never aspired to be a player."
"Eric, jealousy is a nasty trait. I was brilliant. Command performance."
"Yes, to be sure. I longed to command you to stop."
Shooting an evil look in his direction Crispin stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes. "You are just sour because you wanted to be the bad knight and I wouldn't let you."
"You always get to do it." Very petulant. "Would once have hurt? No."
"Oh please. You, my darling, look about as dangerous as a dormouse. What would you have threatened him with - an infectiously sunny disposition? Dearie me, I quiver in my boots."
"Shut up."
He stretched his neck and took a good look around him, blushing slightly when he noticed a group of young girls who were gathered near the door of an Inn and very obviously and appreciatively appraising him. Looking away quickly he nudged the knight in the ribs with his elbow. "Anything?"
They had been walking the small streets around the square for a few candlemarks now, asking around after Claude, but as of yet they hadn't found a single clue. Studying the road names that were engraved on wooden pallets Crispin shook her head. "Not a thing. We've been here before. Let's take Sycamore down there and double back to the square." Turning into the small side street she abruptly halted, the prince almost stumbling into her.
"What?"
Following her eyes he noticed a man who was leaned nonchalantly against a pole, a pipe drooping over his lower lip as he playfully joshed a sly-looking serving girl. Even at this distance his marked face and the leather thong tied around his head were obvious. With a muffled "huh" Crispin began to move, her gait somewhere between noticeably purposeful and awkwardly casual. It was when they had crossed about half of the distance that the man glanced utterly by accident in their direction. Taking in the speedily approaching dark woman and the tall blonde man lagging behind he made a quick decision, and then hastily spat out his pipe and turned on his heel to escape. When Crispin took off in pursuit Eric spat out a curse and sprinted to catch up. The knight was fit and extremely fast, more so than her prey, but as she was about to grasp at him he swiftly took a sharp turn to the right into a small dark alley. Thwarted by her own speed she went careening into a stack of empty boxes, righting herself as Eric ran up to her side.
"Are you all right?"
Nodding briefly she sprinted into the alley, but by the time their eyes had adjusted to the gloom there was nobody to be seen. The walls seemed to be solid until they closed off abruptly in a dead end. Scowling, Crispin walked down the narrow alleyway with her arms extended, both hands running down the gray brickwork in investigation. She was about halfway when a hand landed lightly on her shoulder.
"Wha…?"
Eric was standing behind her, his finger pressed to his lips in an appeal for silence. Standing motionless she concentrated, and then realized what he had heard. Up on the roof there was a faint scrabbling. With a frown she glanced up, and then down the walls to the dead end. Barrels and boxes stood haphazardly piled against a wall that reached right up to the roof in a smooth unbroken surface. Taking a deep breath Crispin rolled her shoulders once.
"What are you doing, Crispin?"
Without a word she took a few steps back and then began to accelerate towards the wall. Approaching the stack of wooden objects at high speed she took a leap onto the closest barrel, hurling herself into the air. Her feet pushed off against any surface she could find, and then she launched herself against the wall, scarcely able to wrap her arms over the rough top surface as the pile beneath her began to collapse. The energy of her movement forced the air from her lungs and she hung from the barrier for a moment, her chest heaving against the cold brickwork. When she'd regained her breath she pulled herself up onto the wall, grateful to feel Eric's hands wrap around her ankles and provide extra leverage. From the wall it was a simple short step onto the flat roof.
Claude had made one very good choice, and one that was not as bright. Deciding on the alley with its concealed niche that led to the roof had been a stroke of genius. As a local of dubious nature he knew all about such nifty little things. Moving onto the next roof in panic had not been such a good idea. If he had stayed still they might have gone, but now they seemed to be pausing down in the alley. Cocking his head he listened carefully, trying to establish what was happening. It had not been a good day for Claude, and this was going to be his next bad choice. He was trying to stay as still as possible, in the hope that they would be convinced to leave. It was, therefore, a rather nasty shock to him when a most almighty noise sounded from down below. He was still trying to determine what had happened when the dark woman popped over the side of the roof.
Why he had stood still in the first place when he was being chased, she didn't understand. His thin lips formed a comical 'o' when her feet hit the floor, and he almost stumbled as he turned and started running again. With a resigned sigh she pursued him, her long legs making it much easier for her to jump over the gap between the two buildings than it had been for him earlier. Though he was not as fast as the following woman, he was a skillful evader, using his obvious knowledge of the area to good effect. Ducking and weaving he managed to avoid her, and although the space b
etween them was shrinking it was doing so at a very small rate. They raced along the rooftops, jumping from building to building, with surprised spectators looking on from below as they suddenly found themselves covered by shadows.
"Eric!"
At an interval of ten steps Crispin bellowed out her companion's name, knowing that he was not on the roof behind her and hoping that her loud shout would keep him informed - and close - on the ground. Her energy was diminishing but she pushed herself to keep her pace, with the knowledge that the man now barely ahead of her was beginning to slow down in exhaustion. It was a complete and utter anti-climax when Claude just stopped and bent over gasping for breath, resting his hands on his knees. Slowing down wildly to avoid colliding with his body Crispin stopped a couple of feet from him, her blue eyes at once irritable and confused as she folded her arms in frustration.
"If you were just going to stop anyway why in the hell did you run in the first place??"
He breathed deeply a few times before he tilted his head and looked up at her, his face hostile. "Ye was chasing me. I don't stand still for that, 'lright?"
His thick accent and gritty voice conjured the image of a toad halfway sunk into a bog. With a frown Crispin crouched down next to him, the corner of her mouth twitching surreptitiously when he slid further away from her irritably. "You don't stand still for that, but you stop?"
"I was tired." Catching her slight smile this time he spat to one side hostilely. "And I was wearin' the wrong shoes for runnin', okay?"
"You have special shoes for running? Did you do something wrong, that you would be running away that much?" The tone was as innocent as she could make it (which was not that much at all).
"No." It was gruff, rude, and much too quick. "I'm not telling ye nuthin. Piss off."
With a small smile Crispin shifted closer. "It is a very reckless thing you did, throwing yourself onto rooftops. Don't you realize that the loss of an eye can affect distance perception? You could have had an accident."
"What the hell is the matter with ye, huh? Are ye goin to be kissin my ouchies next?" He scowled at her from underneath bushy eyebrows.